


A Windmill in 221B Baker Street

by Small_Hobbit



Series: The Ocelot Collection [63]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25727761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: The Ferret is rehearsing his latest 'Masterpiece'
Series: The Ocelot Collection [63]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/57591
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	A Windmill in 221B Baker Street

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SCFrankles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCFrankles/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Frankles!

The three participants emerged onto the makeshift stage and bowed. Two of them then exited the stage, whilst the third took a step forward.

“I saw a mouse,” the Ferret began.

He nodded to Dr Watson who, suitably primed, said, “Where?”

“There, on the stair.”

Aemelia, who had come back on said, “I’m a Vole!”

The Ferret glowered at her and continued, “Right there.”

There was a certain amount of giggling backstage, and Mouselet could be heard to say, “They’re too big!”

“A little mouse with clogs on!”

Mouselet shuffled awkwardly onto the stage and the Ferret turned his glower to the doctor, who said, “Oh yes! Well I declare!”

The Ferret looked back at Mouselet and sang, “Going clip-clippety-clop on the stair.”

Mouselet attempted to go clip-clippety-clop, but one of the clogs flew off her foot and hit the Ferret on the nose.

“Ouch!” He wailed. “You did that deliberately.”

“No, I didn’t,” Mouselet argued. “My aim isn’t normally that good.”

Poley, who had been drafted in as a temporary dresser, came out to see what was going on. Aemelia explained.

“I’m going to give Poley your part,” the Ferret exclaimed.

Poley gave a couple of tentative tap dance steps and she, Mouselet and Aemelia giggled again.

“Sorry, old chap,” Watson said. “I’m afraid it’s back to the drawing board!”


End file.
